Last Lonely Relics
by Obiwanlivesforever
Summary: After millions of years frozen in an iceberg, the prehistoric sea reptiles Cretaceous and Maelstrom awake in the thawing ice age. Follow along as they search for prey, explore their new world, recall their pasts, and meet their final fate. Essentially Ice Age: The Meltdown from Cretaceous' POV. Oneshot, canon-compliant, includes character death/animal death, written for NaNoWriMo.


The first thing I've felt in millions of years comes as a shock.

It's not just because I wasn't expecting to feel _anything_ again, although that's true. It's because the sensation pressing against my scales is one I'd only felt on rare occasions before – when curiosity had lured me too deep into the ocean, or too close to the surface during a storm. _Cold_.

I feel it long before I can see anything – pure coldness encompassing me from all angles. Whatever I'm surrounded by isn't water, but something unpleasantly solid and confining, hard as bone or rock. I can't move. Is this what prey feels like in the teeth of a predator?

Gradually, I become aware of a light shining through whatever entraps me. I'm reminded of looking up from the depths and seeing the sun dancing far above, except that I can't move any closer to or further from it. Still, it seems to be growing. At one point, I'm sure I see something else – a large mass, waiting nearby, then retreating – and my eyes shift to follow it.

That's when I know for the first time, with certainty, that I'm still alive – though I can't remember how I'd thought I'd died, nor do I have any idea where or _when_ I am now.

But with that realization comes a new sense of purpose. I'm alive, and I intend to stay that way. If I can't move, then I will wait – because I can tell now that whatever I'm stuck in is easing away, albeit agonizingly slowly – and seize whatever chances fate brings me to escape.

After a while, the first bit of my prison breaks away, exposing the end of my snout to the air. It's a fresh and welcome taste. Sensing liberty, every fiber of me springs into action. Ancient muscles, dormant for eons, work in tandem as I shift my weight back and forth. My tail thrashes, my claws scrape. I'm acutely aware of my heartbeat, as restless and eager as the trapped animal which it powers. Progress is minuscule at first, but little by little I gain the upper hand against my frozen captor, until _finally,_ part of it sloughs off and I'm deposited into the water.

Freedom! My natural element envelops me as an old friend. Unlike the ice, it yields willingly at the slightest turn of my tail, allowing me to move in any direction. My fins flare out, guiding me along. Bubbles stream around me like schools of tiny fish. I break the surface with a jubilant splash before plunging back down as deep as I can go. For a few moments, I've reverted from a seasoned predator into a playful hatchling, experiencing the ocean for the first time after the arduous trek from the nest across the sand.

Being back underwater is such a relief that it takes a few moments for me to realize that one thing hasn't changed. The temperature is just as frigid as before. Coldness burrows in between my scales, penetrating right down through the flesh. This doesn't feel like any ocean I've ever swum in. How can any creature survive in a place like this? _Does_ anything else live here?

Which leads to another pressing concern. A different discomfort, fainter now than the cold but sure to grow, is beginning to claw at me. When was the last time I fed? Obviously not since before I was frozen … which must have been many, _many_ years ago for the world around me to have changed so drastically. My instincts demand that finding food should be my top priority. Yet this water seems worryingly devoid of prey. No ripples indicate the presence of fish or squid. Not even a solitary ammonite floats along. Not enough for one large predator, let alone two.

 _Two?_ Something reawakens in my memory. Of course. I wasn't alone when I was frozen. In fact, it had been a very long time since I was alone at all.

Circling back towards the iceberg, I catch a glimpse of the greenish-blue bulk that has swum by my side for many a year. My hunting partner, my friend – and that word is not used often in the cruel Mesozoic seas – Maelstrom. Finally, some familiarity in this strange world.

I have to swim around the ice block to better see my companion, who is trapped further back than I was. He's conscious – I can see him straining to force his way free – but lacking my sharp claws and powerful tail, he's having a much harder time. Fortunately for him, there's an advantage to travelling in pairs. Setting aside all thoughts of cold and hunger, I get to work breaking apart the ice as best as I can. Between the two of us, the walls of his prison grow thinner and thinner. Time is our ally as well, for the longer we spend scraping and smashing, the more the ice seeps away of its own accord.

At last, Maelstrom joins me in the water. Just as I had, he flinches uncomfortably at the coldness. I speak to him in the low hissing only our kind can understand, asking if he's well enough to swim. Although clearly drained from his ordeal, he grunts an affirmative yes. His question to me – where exactly we are – is harder to answer.

The two of us look around, truly taking in our surroundings for the first time. We had been frozen in an ocean; we've awoken in a mere pond. Ice is everywhere: huge chunks of it drift across the surface, while a colossal cliff curves around behind us. Streams of water rush over the edge into our pool, increasing its volume imperceptibly. Before us, a rocky shore hems us in. There seems to be no way out, and barring the noise of waterfalls, the whole place is eerily still and silent.

… Maybe not _completely_ so. A faint and unexpected current brushes against me, signalling that we are not alone.

I bump lightly against Maelstrom, but he's noticed it, too. A short distance away, some sort of turtle-like creature is paddling in our direction. Its jerky motions reveal it's clearly not built for swimming. Even better, it seems completely oblivious to our presence.

This seems almost too easy to be fair, but in a situation like this, survival must come before sentiment.

I signal to Maelstrom to wait – I'll take care of this while he recovers his strength – and let instinct take over. Not even millennia of disuse have dulled it. Carefully timing my actions, I drift forward until my quarry is a perfect distance away. Then, like lightning splitting a placid sky, I strike.

The creature barely has time to gasp for air before it's over.

It's not very big, but at least it's food. Afterwards, we fling the only inedible part – the rock-solid shell – back onto the land. Judging by the taste, our victim definitely _wasn't_ a turtle, nor anything I've ever encountered before. Yet another reminder of the alienness of whatever world we've awoken into.

A scampering sound from above attracts our attention. Rising to just above the surface, we watch as some other creature, as unfamiliar as the last, hurries away with the shell. It heads toward a shifting mass in the distance. After a moment of adjusting my eyes to the sunlight, I realize – with a jolt of both excitement and frustration – that it's a huge herd of animals, all lumbering in the opposite direction.

So there is more prey to be found here. The only problem is, with every passing second, it gets further and further away.

With no choice but to wait, we sink back into our domain and hope that the water will rise.

* * *

It does – but slowly. As the sun creeps towards the horizon, the water advances bit by bit, submerging further stretches of dirt and stone. Maelstrom and I patrol the gradually-expanding edges of our territory in case some other creature decides to return. At one point, I risk clambering on shore to look about – unlike my ally, I'm able to move on land, though I prefer the safety of the water – but there's nothing to see but the tracks of long-departed animals. The day passes in a monotony of coldness, hunger, and boredom.

Eventually, daylight disappears behind the ice wall, reducing everything around us to muted grey. Maelstrom and I sleep side-by-side, bobbing up and down in one another's currents, occasionally breaking the surface to breathe.

With morning comes renewed purpose – and good news. The water level has more than doubled, with many of the icebergs having shrunken or disappeared completely. It's still unbearably cold, but with more room to swim, we can get our blood pumping.

We set off to explore our new environment. The pool still doesn't stretch very far, but a new channel has opened, leading further into the valley. The more we see, the clearer it becomes that we're in a world very unlike our previous habitat. The most obvious difference is, of course, the temperature, but there's also a stark feeling of emptiness. The warm Mesozoic seas teemed with life: shimmering shoals of fish in every shape and size, plesiosaurs probing the deep with their long necks, needle-nosed and wide-eyed ichthyosaurs, crocodilians like myself, and still-larger predators whose silhouettes sent even Maelstrom and I speeding away. Ammonites hung suspended in the clear water, squids rocketed past in streams of tentacles, crabs and other bottom-feeders scuttled over the rocks below, and seabirds and pterosaurs dotted the surface. Beyond us lay the world of the land-dwellers. Millions upon millions of lives, all competing for survival in a delicately balanced, perfectly interconnected ecosystem.

Now, that world seems to have been reduced to two lone survivors. The only other living things we've seen since that odd shelled creature are a few fish, so small it would be a waste of energy to chase them. There's barely even a spot of colour – the flooded landscape lacks the brilliant hues of coral and kelp. In fact, my purple scales and Maelstrom's bluish-green hide seem to be the only relief from the never-ending browns and greys. However much time and space separate us from our former home, the simple fact remains: it's gone.

Still, from our glimpse of a retreating herd yesterday, we know that _something_ more lives here. I'm suddenly reminded of the movement I saw while still trapped inside the iceberg. Some creature was watching me, and it was far too large to be the unfortunate not-turtle. A dinosaur? Or have they, too, vanished without a trace?

Maelstrom is the only constant. As I watch him undulating along out of the corner of my eye, it's hard to remember a time when he wasn't by my side. We'd met not long after reaching maturity, that stage of life when one finally leaves the reef for the open ocean. Young, brash, and obstinate, we'd both been ready to claim our place near the top of the food chain – and to defend it when challenged…

 _I'd been tracking an injured_ hypsocormus _fish all day and was nearing my target. The closeness and pungency of its scent nearly made me delirious, but I forced myself to remain focused. Even a wounded animal would not necessarily go down easily._

 _However, I soon realized that the_ hypsocormus _would not be my biggest problem – in fact, it was already dead. Instead, confrontation came in the form of a large creature approaching the carcass from the opposite direction. Clearly I wasn't the only predator drawn to the smell. This was a different species from me, a rotund reptilian with a blunt jaw and short tail. Raising my back fin in warning did nothing to deter the newcomer, so I prepared for a fight. I'd come too far to lose this prey._

 _Maelstrom barreled towards me – tonnes of sheer muscle and armour-like hide – and I knew at once that I had no chance of winning based on physical strength alone. My body was made for speed and sharp turns, not brute force. So why not use that to my advantage? Waiting until just before my opponent could make contact, I swerved out of the way and let his momentum carry him past. I was too fast for him to realize his mistake. A heartbeat later and I was shooting up from below, snapping at his exposed underbelly._

 _I scored, but he rolled over and my teeth met punishingly-hard scales. Hissing furiously, I retreated. We circled one another, the tension high, until launching forward for a renewed attack. Both of us fought hard, clashing again and again. My agility and Maelstrom's brawn made for an evenly-matched battle._

 _Somewhere, in the midst of the clash, the roiling water, and the slashing teeth, our antagonism morphed into something completely new: respect. I couldn't help but admire the strength and persistence of my rival, and – though it took a while for me to realize – neither could he._

 _Eventually, worn and exhausted, we drew away from each other. Both of us were in desperate need of a breath of air. Slowly, warily, half-trusting that the other wouldn't use this as an opportunity to strike, we rose to the surface in a cautious truce._

 _When we both came back down refreshed and unharmed, the battle was over. We had mutually arrived at the same conclusion. Why waste our precious time and energy fighting one another when we could work together instead?_

 _From that point on, we were allies. Our partnership was, perhaps, a bit unorthodox, with us belonging to two typically solitary species. But the benefits outweighed the drawbacks. As a pair, we were more than a match for most anything that came our way, predator or prey. As long as this arrangement continued to be mutually beneficial, we were allies._

Even now, with those primeval seas all but vanished, we still bear traces of the wounds we gave each other on that first meeting. They serve as a reminder that we will never turn on each other again.

* * *

By the time the sun shines directly overhead, the channel we were following has widened into a vast saltwater lake. Ice floes cover the surface like a solidified layer of sea foam. The cracks between them admit rays of light into the depths.

Our hunger has grown more acute. It's been over a day since we last ate, and while we could go for much longer without food in our old habitat, that's not the case here. We aren't built to survive at such a frigid temperature. Just keeping our bodies alive is severely taxing our strength. What's worse, we have no food reserves to fall back on, as with the exception of yesterday, we haven't eaten for millions of years.

Fortunately for us, that might be about to change. A herd is crossing the ice.

Though they seem completely unaware of us, we can spy their figures plodding across the translucent canopy overhead. They must be stragglers separated from the larger group. There are about six in all – two large, lumbering creatures similar to our own size, two smaller animals, and a couple of tiny ones that scamper over the ice almost too quickly to be seen. We don't need to bring down all of them – even one of the bigger pair would be sufficient – but we also can't afford to be picky. We'll take whichever ones we can get.

Swiftly, silently, we glide into position. Maelstrom pauses just ahead of our targets, bobbing underneath the ice. I double back. This is one of our usual routines – one of us confronts head-on, the other swoops in from behind. My back fin breaks the surface as I maneuver between two ice sheets, and for a second the largest of the animals glances in my direction. I have a sudden, inexplicable suspicion that this was the one watching me from outside the iceberg. Just like then, the creature hovers briefly, then moves on.

The silhouettes draw closer and closer until they're almost directly above Maelstrom. A moment of tense silence seems to stretch out forever. I must have experienced this countless times before, this calm before the storm, but the anticipation is as fresh and sharp as if this was my first hunt. One more second of calculated self-restraint – and the attack begins.

Maelstrom explodes upwards through the ice. The herd is scattered in every direction, some flung into the water, others managing to keep their grip on the floes. As Maelstrom's trajectory carries him back down, I shoot to the surface and burst through the jagged hole he made. Right across from me is the leader of the herd. It's a strange sight: a hulking creature with a snakelike trunk, limbs thick as tree trunks, and two imposingly-curved tusks. The muscular form is covered in shaggy brown hair. Not a dinosaur, then, but whatever must have stepped into the niche they left behind. I make all these observations in the instant before it turns to flee, the unmistakable signs of fear in its gait.

Plunging back under the surface, I dart after it. For such a heavy, ungainly-seeming creature, it moves with impressive speed. I relish the challenge. There's a thrill to the chase – rushing water, heightened heartbeat, straining muscles, predator against prey in a fierce contest for survival. This is what I was made to do.

A burst of green appears in my peripheral vision – Maelstrom pursuing one of the medium-sized animals. It scrambles aboard an ice chunk alongside one of its fellows, but my friend is gaining, and one of the creatures seems frozen with fear. Confident that at least one of us will make a kill, I refocus all my attention on my quarry.

Its silhouette has slowed, haltingly crossing the last ice sheet before a stretch of open water. Excitement sears through me. It's cornered. Turning back isn't an option, but if it tries to swim, it's finished. All I have to do is see what it chooses.

As it stands there, swiveling its head from side to side, I decide to make the decision for it. In one fluid motion I launch myself onto the floe.

The ice is cold against my underbelly, keeping me moving as quickly as possible. I assail the large animal in short, aggressive bursts, trying to get close enough to do some damage while avoiding those huge feet. The creature is infuriatingly good at evading me. I'm too low to the ground to deal a killing blow, but if I could get in even a single bite, I could cripple it long enough to turn the tide. Yet I never quite hit my mark.

The prey retreats bit by bit, feet scraping against the edge, its weight counterbalancing the floe. My end tilts into the air. In seconds I'm above its head. Just a little further …

Here's my chance. One clean shot at the throat and I can end this quickly. Teeth bared, I lunge.

But my jaws don't close on soft flesh. In fact, they don't close at all.

A moment of dumbstruck confusion passes before I realize what's happened. My mouth is caught around the creature's tusks. Judging by the equally startled expression in the beast's eyes, it was expecting this as little as I was.

Panic overtakes shock. Now I'm at the mercy of the prey. Fully aware of how easily it could bash my brains out against the ice, I start thrashing about. It's in vain. Try as I might, I can't dislodge my jaws. They're propped open at a very uncomfortable angle, the cold air invading my throat makes me gag, the blood is rushing to my head, and _I need to get back in the water-_

With a gargantuan effort, the creature flings me away. The world whirls around in a blur, sea indistinguishable from sky. I slam forcefully against the ice, pain bursting along my side, then drop into the water.

When the nausea and vertigo finally fade, replaced by a dull ache and the all-too-familiar cold, I notice Maelstrom is back. He lets out a low rumble of concern. I'm too furious with myself to respond. The humiliation of this defeat stings more sharply than any injury. I thought I could best this foe in its own element – on land – and ended up tossed about like flotsam in a sea storm. What's worse, Maelstrom clearly hasn't caught anything either. I don't know how he managed to bungle such an easy kill, but I don't particularly care. Knowing I'm not alone in my failure is no consolation when it means we'll both go hungry.

Our would-be prey is regrouping on the far side of the lake. The water hasn't risen further, and there are no more rivers or channels to extend our journey. We're just as trapped as the tusked creature was mere minutes ago. All we can do is watch what was quite possibly our last chance at a meal retreat beyond our reach.

We descend, and the deathly chill of the water grips even tighter.

* * *

When our kind ruled the ocean, stories told of a parasitic worm that dwelt in carcasses and entered the mouths of scavengers. Once inside their digestive tracks, it would set to work siphoning off nutrients meant for the larger creature. As the parasite feasted, the host withered away. If it was lucky, it expired before other predators drew near. If not, it suffered an even grislier death before passing its secret killer on to the next victim.

Not having had the misfortune to experience that myself, I never found out if these rumors were true or just legends designed to scare competitors away from free food. I tended to believe the latter.

Now, though, being eaten alive from outside by cold and from inside by hunger, I imagine this is what it would have it felt like.

Maelstrom and I are starving. Yesterday's paltry meal might as well have been in the distant past. Our stomach pangs intensify, accompanied in my case by a persistent throbbing from where I was thrown against the ice. Even swimming has become a trial. Most of our energy is diverted to the simple task of keeping ourselves functioning in this climate.

The next morning brings more floodwater, granting us further passage into this new territory, but it's of little use. Every living thing seems to have vacated the area. The herd from yesterday was most likely the last of the stragglers, and they must be so far ahead by now that we have no chance of catching up.

More and more, it's dawning on me that maybe we're simply not meant to survive here.

Even if we get a kill today, then what? It provides us with just enough nourishment to linger on until we stumble across our next meal? The same cycle, over and over again, until old age finally catches up to us. And whether we die sooner or later, the outcome is the same: the end of our era and of our species. After all, we've seen neither tail nor fin of anything that looks like us. We are the last of our kinds.

My thoughts turn to my companion. It's occurred to me that, given the absence of any other underwater carnivores, Maelstrom is my greatest competition for prey. It's almost unheard of for two near-apex predators to willingly share hunting territory, especially in times of scarcity. According to the laws of survival, I should turn on him. Eliminate the need to divide whatever food we catch.

But I am not so low a creature, and neither is he. We proved that to each other long before this new world had begun to form. Lulled by the cold, I drift off into the past.

 _Maelstrom and I had been hunting together for about two seasons when an ocean storm struck. Nearby islands flooded and land-dwellers were swept out to sea. The next morning we came across a drowned dinosaur. No predator turns down easy prey, even if it is foreign, so we immediately begun to feast. The meat was so plentiful and so intoxicating that I committed a deadly mistake – I stopped paying attention._

 _A massive force collided with my side. Writhing in protest, I was propelled away from the carcass. Shock escalated into fury as I recognized Maelstrom's familiar green shape against me. Was this how it was, then? After so long together, he was turning on me over some half-eaten carrion? Well, he would soon regret-_

 _I looked back at the dinosaur just in time to see it engulfed by the maw of a huge_ liopleurodon _._

 _All my rage evaporated as I understood. Maelstrom had seen the danger while I was foolishly distracted. Most animals would simply flee. He saved my life while risking his own._

 _I didn't get the chance to repay him until the next stormy season._

 _This time, it was our world that was thrust into that of the land-dwellers. I'd managed to seek shelter in a small cave, but Maelstrom was blown off-course. Once the waters calmed I searched for him everywhere. I eventually found him beached on a storm-torn island, a living piece of debris among coral shards and snapped tree trunks. Unequipped for movement on land, he had exhausted himself trying to get back to the water. To make matters worse, a pack of_ ornitholestes _had congregated and was growing bolder every second._

 _It was the kind of death every great sea creature feared: cast out of one's natural element, rendered virtually immobile, and picked apart by scavengers. Far better to have been devoured by the_ liopleurodon _than suffer such an indignity. I knew it could very well be my fate, too, if I didn't turn and leave as my instincts were commanding. Yet I couldn't obey._

 _Clawing my way ashore, I wriggled between Maelstrom and the eager little theropods. From behind me came his soft wheezing, expressing both gratitude and shame. The sight of him in such a vulnerable state gave me the strength I needed. Thrashing my tail, lunging back and forth and snapping my jaws, I managed to keep the dinosaurs at bay while also shoving my comrade towards the shore. By the time the tide rose to help us, I'd accumulated several nicks from our foes' teeth as well as scratches from the rough sand. It was a worthwhile trade – what I'd gained was far more valuable._

 _Maelstrom and I were no longer just hunting partners. In a world where nearly every other living organism fit into one of three categories – prey, predator, or competition – we'd become something truly unique. Friends._

A deafening crack rends apart my memories. Jolted back to the present, I swivel about in search of the source of the noise. Maelstrom is equally confused. The sound recurs, reverberating throughout the water with tremendous force.

The two of us ascend to get a better look around. We'd been at our normal depth, but it seems that we have to travel further than usual to get to the surface. In fact – just as I pop above the waves, they lift teasingly above my head.

It comes to me in one glorious stroke of realization. The water – the cracking – the ice – that massive glacial wall at the back end of the valley, a lone bulwark against fathoms of ocean, splintering at last. Already the horizon swells in a crest of foam. The meltdown is here. We have another chance.

It'll be our last one. The grim truth passes between Maelstrom and I in a heartbeat. We've been stretched to the breaking point. If we don't get a kill this time, we won't do so again. There can be no more foolish gambles, no retreats or hesitation. We will bring down prey or die trying.

The whole world ripples with the coming of one massive wave. Borne aloft, we speed on to our fate.

* * *

The flood savages the terrestrial landscape with claws of water and ice. Rock formations topple as if they were pebbles. Trees are swept away like fragile fronds of seaweed. Dunes and fields transform into lakebeds; clifftops become islands. Our world devours theirs at an incredible pace. It's as if the water, like us, is celebrating its release from its frozen prison.

At the far end of the valley, we encounter a familiar shape. The tusked beast is fully underwater now. Instead of heading for dry land, it remains beside a nearly-submerged cliff, pushing against a log wedged between several boulders. It seems that it's trying to dislodge the rocks. Why it's fixated on this at the risk of its own survival, I have no idea, but it matters little. We're not going to let it succeed.

Quickly evaluating the situation, Maelstrom and I settle on a plan. I'll surprise the creature and pull it down to the depths, where the two of us will finish it off. Maelstrom suggests he should lead the ambush, considering I've already been injured by the creature, but that's why I have to be the one to do it. My rash decision to fight the prey on its own turf cost us the hunt last time. I need to redeem myself. There's also the practical fact that my long jaws are better at gripping than Maelstrom's shorter snout.

In the quiet moment right before the attack, we wordlessly wish each other luck. If all goes poorly, this could be our last time together. We savor it.

Then the tusked creature moves upwards, and I follow.

Sinking my teeth into its tail, I yank it beneath the surface and dive. It's an immense burden. The animal's body mass is at least twice my own, and it puts every ounce of that into resisting. I thrash my tail with equal resolve, propelling us down into the blackness. Every second I'm hoping to feel it go limp – if it drowns, this will be easier on all of us – but it's very much alive by the time I release it near the sea floor.

Maelstrom emerges from the gloom. Together, we begin to circle the prey at a distance, aware of the danger still posed by those huge tusks. Maelstrom goes first, a blur of green muscle ramming into the creature at full speed. Then it's my turn. Before the victim can recover, I whip the full length of my body against it. Doubly stunned, it floats aimlessly. This is it – we're beating it, we're winning! Exhilaration surges through my veins. I circle behind it for another attack, going for its rump – and am met by its foot against my head.

Blinded with pain, I twist backwards. The creature takes full advantage of my distraction and paddles out of reach. Somewhere amidst the agony splitting apart my skull, I cling to what I have left – my instinct, my will for survival, my refusal for _this_ to be the end. I can't go down now and leave Maelstrom in this place. We were going to finish this together –

He nudges me – strange, how this comforting bulk can be the same one that just dealt a vicious blow to our target – and, emboldened, we rise to the surface.

The tusked animal, gasping for air amidst the waves, sees us and ducks back down. We shoot after it in close pursuit. For whatever reason, it returns to the cliff wall and the protruding log. Stubborn, foolish creature. All the better for us. We're almost there – my head pounds in excitement and pain – we lunge, jaws wide for the killing blow –

The prey darts upwards, we collide with the log, and, in the instant before the boulder breaks both our backs, we understand.

Didn't I use that same trick, the first time I fought Maelstrom all those eons ago? Remain in place, let your enemy come for you, get out of the way at the last second and use their momentum against them? The tusked animal wasn't mobile enough in the water to displace the rocks, but it knew we were. We've been defeated by our own strength.

No, that isn't true, I realize, as my senses rapidly fade. Our downfall has had many factors. Years of dormancy, the icy temperature, the insatiable hunger, the ingenuity of a creature that, like us, wanted nothing more than to survive … All have combined to make the final truth very clear. This new world is not meant for us. Fitting, that we should die by one of its mightiest denizens. The blurred silhouette of the tusked creature was the first thing I saw here, and as I take one more glance upwards, it is also the last.

The falling rock plunges us further and further into the abyss, Maelstrom at my side as he always was in life. As the sunlight from above disappears, we are enveloped in a soft blackness. Somehow, I feel neither fury nor fear, but peace. Acceptance. Fate has spared us the slow anguish of freezing or starvation. Cold, hunger, pain; all has passed.

Down, down we go, the last lonely relics of a bygone era, to join the rest of our world in sleep.

* * *

 **Author's Note: So I finally wrote something for NaNoWriMo and … it's an Ice Age 2 FanFiction. I can explain.**

 **As a really young child I was heavily into dinosaurs and other prehistoric animals. In fact, my obsession with dinosaurs is one of the earliest things I can remember about myself. I loved Land Before Time, Jurassic Park, Walking With Dinosaurs/Prehistoric Beasts, and the like. I also wrote a ton of fiction from the perspective of these creatures, often predatory animals like hyaenodons, terror birds, and giant whales. Most of it is lost and/or unreadable now, but it was a lot of fun at the time.**

 **By the time Ice Age 2 came out, I was 12 and had mostly moved on to an interest in human history. However, I instantly fell in love with the movie. I'd always liked the first Ice Age, but Ice Age 2 (while objectively not as good a film) quickly became my new special interest. That was in large part due to the two antagonists, Cretaceous and Maelstrom. Even though they don't say anything or even do all that much, 12-year-old me was completely obsessed with them. I guess they reminded me of the prehistoric creatures I'd loved in my earlier childhood. You could even say that they were my original Problematic Faves ™.**

 **Even as an adult, this movie and its characters still hold a special place in my heart. I'd sort of toyed with the idea of writing something about it since rewatching the movie this summer, but nothing actually came of it until last month when some of my friends started doing NaNo. I'm a very sporadic FanFiction writer, and writing a whole novel in a month is completely beyond me, but I thought, why not work on a one-shot? I know I technically finished it in early December, but oh well.** ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

 **I could talk forever about my thought processes while writing this, but I'll just say that it was a lot more fun than I'd expected. I struggle with writing as freely and unselfconsciously as I did as a child, so this helped me work through some of that doubt and self-criticism. One of the challenges of it was to try and bring some life and soul to these (admittedly flat) characters, while still 1) not anthropomorphizing them to the extent that the main cast are, and 2) not glossing over the fact that they're predatory animals and, in some ways, villainous. I wanted to humanize them without making them *human*, if that makes sense. Part of that meant that I wasn't going to make them talk, and I also tried to avoid using any words or referencing anything that they wouldn't understand (ex. human idioms, names of creatures like mammoths/glyptodonts, even the word 'ice' at the beginning until I realized it'd be basically impossible to write the rest of the story without using it). It was hard, especially since I haven't written anything from an animal's perspective in probably over a decade, but I think I pulled it off okay.**

 **On a side note, my headcanon is that Cretaceous is a** _ **Metriorhynchus**_ **(I think that's one of the common fanon interpretations) or something similar, and I honestly have no clue what Maelstrom should be. He doesn't resemble any real-life prehistoric animal that I know of. (I do remember some guidebook referring to them as a pliosaur and an ichthyosaur, but seeing as I knew that was scientifically inaccurate even as a kid, I don't go with it. :P) I also headcanon that they were from the mid-late Jurassic, and thus were frozen for about 150 million years.**

 **Anyway, this was just my attempt to ease myself back into writing while bringing some attention to two characters very dear to me. I realize there's essentially no audience for this and I'm not expecting to get reviews/faves/kudos, but I figured I'd post it anyway, if just for my own sake.**

 **If you did read it, I really appreciate it, and I hope you enjoyed! :)**


End file.
